Willing to Give
by AWritingPikachu
Summary: What would you give to get something you want? How far you go to get something you need? When Jay is faced with a dilemma, he gets far more than what he expects. HiE, first story so reviews are always welcome.


Willing to Give

**Yeah, this is a thing that I hate doing and I'm pretty sure no one likes it either, but this is an update. After an unproductive break I've decided that I'll be working on this story once again. After re-reading chapter one and two... Well, I think I could be doing better, so I'll be re-writing it and taking the story in a bit of a different direction. I'll have the new first chapter up in March. But until then, happy reading!**

**A.W.P**

I do not own My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic in any way, shape or form. It is owned by Hasbro and Lauren Faust. I only own my own characters and you can't has them.

Chapter One: How it starts

"I'm sorry, but she didn't make it Mr. Josephs."..."It's not your fault, you know that right?"..."What are you willing to give to get her ba-?"

I jolted awake, sweating and scared. I've never had a dream like that. Not since... well, that's a different story. I check my iTouch for the time. 8:45 P.M. I sighed, hating myself for not being able to get some decent sleep. The night before I'd been staring up into the ceiling, trying to force myself to sleep which resulted in me finally passing out at 4:00 A.M. The whole week had been brutal. Projects on top of tests and quizzes and studying, I needed a break. Fast. I forced myself to get ready for the (Thank God) Saturday ahead of me. I didn't WANT to, but I had to, today was that day, that 'other story's' day.

And what did that dream even mean?

I got dressed and went downstairs to get my stuff, wearing a grey sweatshirt over a white t-shirt and blue jeans, AKA whatever was on the floor on my room. Picking up my duffel bag in the living room, I open it to check over the things inside it. My now-entering iTouch, laptop, phone, headphones along with random wires of sorts, writing utensils and other unorganized odds and ends, probably due to the lack of a pencil case and change due to working at the local bakery. As long as it paid well better than babysitting 5 year olds. Although I hated that job, I DID benefit from it by discovering a great show that I didn't expect to find myself watching. Said show was My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic. It all started when a neighbor began paying me to babysit for his seven year old daughter, a very polite and quiet girl named Kaylie. They dropped her off every day at eight o'clock in the morning and picked her up at two in the afternoon, all of which happened during Summer Vacation for three weeks.

At first it was just basic routine, 'Hi, how are you today?', 'Lunch is ready!', 'No wait don't touch that!' But with each day I found her in my living room reading a small book or otherwise watching that show. One day I decided to 'observe' what she liked to watch on TV. I wasn't really surprised; it ranged from stuff from Cartoon Network and all that. But it seemed the one show she loved to use my TV for was My Little Pony. She even asked me if I wanted to watch it with her. Not wanting to be an ass, I said yes. Needless to say and to her amazement, I enjoyed it from the first episode. The characters were accepting and loving, all that the same time being acceptable and lovable and unique in their own way. Kaylie and I watched all of season one together, both of us by the end being like brother and sister. We sometimes had to use my laptop but we still enjoyed it. And I don't regret a single moment of it. Kaylie was like that little sister that just knew how to make you smile. We were both heartbroken when she told me she was moving, we never got a chance to watch season two. I didn't really pay much attention after she left, it was more enjoyable when Kaylie was there watching with me. I gave her parents my email and phone number, my excuse being in case they needed me again. Her father smiled skeptically though, he said he knew that I had grown on her. As he left he said I was a great kid. What a great, smug dad he was.

'Call From: Dad,' my phone blurted out. I jumped, not expecting the call. MY dad didn't call me much, he was always the busy kind with work and all that. I hesitated, not sure if the call was important or not. I steeled myself and answered the phone.

"Hello?" I said as my voice pathetically cracked near the end of the word. You're 17, for god's sake, Jay, get a grip. There was a pause for good two or three seconds, and then...

"Hey kid," my dad answered back, "How're you doing?" I felt nervous, like there was some kind of tone in his voice that just wasn't right. "Uh, nothing much really, just about to go out. What about you?" Another pause, then a long sigh. Here we go again.

"Listen, Jay, I feel like we haven't really talked since... well, you know," He continued," I just want to say that I'm sorry." I felt like someone had literally tried to pull my heart strings out. It wasn't the apology, it was the fact that it wasn't his fault. At this point I should probably explain.

It was a late night and we were coming home from a family reunion, my dad driving, me in the front seat and mom in the backseat asleep. One thing that should be known about driving from Hamilton to Toronto is that there's a LOT of cliffs and steep hills.

We only had one headlight working and it was winter at its worst, ice and snow and everything, so we wanted to get to home as soon as possible.

While driving down a steep hill an eighteen-wheeler lost control from behind us and came sliding down the hill. We sped up in a panic but to no avail. Mom was crushed in the back. She died only a few hours later before we could get her to the hospital. The funeral was closed casket, only a few weeks after. To this day, dad blames himself and tries his best to apologize to me. I try to say it wasn't his fault, he doesn't believe me. Rinse, wash, repeat. For three years.

I stayed silent, waiting for some sort of genius thing to say but nothing happened. "Jay, I know what you're going to say but-"

"But nothing Dad!" I cut him off, not for my sake but for his, "I've had just about enough of this. It isn't your damned fault! It was that idiot selfish truck driver who didn't know any better!". I heard a quiet inhale on the other end but I didn't stop there, I couldn't let him go on like this.

"Ever since that day, dad, you call me on this day and apologize. But do you even know what that does to me?" I asked, my voice steadily rising, "I die a little inside when I hear that you still blame yourself about this! You think it's your fault when it was really it was giant wad of steel's! YOU KNOW DAMN WELL IT ISN'T YOUR FAULT!"

Silence, or just the very faint static of a bad reception. And then sniffling. Christ, is he crying? I regretted my outburst but I stood by my opinion, he can't blame himself forever. He finally got himself together.

"Jay, I wish I could look at it the same way. I'm so proud of you, how you handled the situation. Hell, you handled it better than me." He was right, I vented out my feelings to other family members and friends. But my father was a different case. He fell down to drinking and he would usually sit in the room he used to share with mom, staring at the wall with no emotion. It was like he just snapped, like his brain was tied down to a chair and was forced to watch the same thing over again. Probably a wall.

Amusingly, we both sighed, thinking over things. I heard him chuckle, a rare thing for me to hear, considering everything.

"I think we both deserve a break, huh?" he asked. I smiled at the proposition. We DID deserve a break, but where would we go? What would we do?

"I think we'll cross that bridge when we get to it, dad. Listen, I'll talk to you later, I got stuff to do." I said, wanting to have the day to myself. "Alright kid, I'll think about what you said". I hung up, put on my jacket, got out the house and left the keys locked in the garage for Dad when he gets was snowy in Downtown, Toronto. I personally liked spring weather better than the winter weather, the pit-pattering of springtime showers hitting concrete always calmed me down when I was frustrated. I made my way out of the townhouse complex and went deeper into the city. As I was walking towards Yonge Street, I couldn't help but feel like I was being followed. I took a quick glance behind me, nothing was odd in particular, but I still had that nagging feeling. I shrugged it off and chalked it up to me just being paranoid while walking towards the mall I usually go to in the mornings. I entered the mall and immediately made a beeline for the closest Tim Horton's. I was craving for some honey-dip doughnuts. As I paid for my food and sat down at a table, I noticed someone across the food court staring at me. He, or what seemed to be a he, was fairly tall wearing a business suit and hat. Nothing really special until I noticed he was wearing a black mask of some sorts. It was eerie, like it was. My mind sprung back into its old findings of paranoia as I got up quickly and walked out of the mall. This was starting to freak me out.

I started thinking of the safest places to go, the only two being my house and a police station. Not knowing where I could find a police station, I decided that my house would be my best bet. I took a quick glance behind me and saw the man slowly following me. His features became more apparent, he was at least 6'3, wearing gloves and just a plain black mask, no special features or anything. I quickened my pace as I approached the complex. I made it to my door, my heart beating fast as I reached into my bag for my house key. I found my garage key instead. Swearing to myself for forgetting, I ran to the garage, unlocked it, and threw it open. I took another glance behind me, seeing the man walking down the street. Literally in a blind fear, I snatch my keys from the hook it hangs on and sprint for the front door. Well, I should say I tried to. I ran into the man and fell to the ground, him looking down at me, me looking up at him, scared out of my damn mind. It felt as if I ran into a brick wall. He slowly raised his hand to take off his hat. "What are you willing to give to get her back?" I heard him say as he forcefully kept me down beneath his foot. I was about to cry for help when he took off his mask. I blacked out before I could yell for help, let alone see what he looked like.

AN: Aaaand yeah. First chapter is done and all. I'm planning on waiting for some people's opinions. Till next time.


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